Drowning
by MiLa63
Summary: Mermaid!Molly has to learn how to get back home after she is exiled from the undersea kingdom for murder. Sherlock, a fisherman's grandson, is her aid to the two-legged world and the mystery surrounding her past. Will she go back? Will he be the one to help her? Will they fall in love? Of course, it's sherlolly! Enjoy!
1. Part I: The Mystery

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock, nor the characters used below.

Also, I would like to note that Sherlock here is not an arrogant know-it-all because he was raised by his grandfather by the sea. So, definitely OOC.

Part I - The Mystery

Chapter 1: Mere Life

Ice-cold wind brought the smell of seaweed, which was full of unfamiliar sharpness, to my nose. The bundles of slimy sea-bark stuck to the sand like my frozen wet hair clung to my bare back. I glared at the abominable and everlasting line separating the turbulent sea from the grey sky. I sighed as my eyes turned downward to my two shivering legs. Rubbing my hands over their rough and artic skin, I let my white legs sink even deeper into the soaked sand. Frustration and annoyance crept along my body like poison taking a life. Sounds of the crashing water reminded me of how truly and utterly alone I really was. When I glanced over my shoulder, the beach stretched on for eternity. I decided to move one leg after another away from the ice water. Each step felt like lifting and dropping boulders. Suddenly, I heard a voice, in between the bursts of cold breaths.

"Hello? Are you alright?" A tall man with grey hairs ran up to me. "Where are your clothes?" he asked, full of fatherly concern. I glanced down. No clothes. "Here you go," he gently whispered, as he wrapped his long overcoat around me. My confusion and disbelief at this kind human shocked me into paralysis. He walked with me back to his little house, just steps from the beach. I tripped once or twice, getting used to his pacing.

When finally sitting inside, I saw fire. A warmth propelling from a light, like the sun only smaller. My body wanted to go further inside in, but my mind pulled it out of its powers toward the forsaken moonlit window. "It's alright. Go ahead, get closer to the fire," he cooed, beckoning. "As long as you don't touch it, you won't get hurt." He himself scooted his chair closer, so I followed his lead but ever so carefully. "Goodness," he sighed and shook his head, "you're shaking like a leaf in a blizzard." He leaned farther back in his chair and slowly dropped his eyelids. My heart beat wildly at this new place with strange people and things. My eyes roamed all around the room, investigating every piece of furniture.

However, my exhaustion forced me to drift off into a burning world of darkness. Flashing images raced in front of me. A tall tower made of pink and purple coral in all its majesty stood before me for one second. Faces smiled and laughed while swimming away with a flurry of bubbles. I couldn't help but feel a longing, a pull towards the tower and people. Then, a large flash of lightning shocked my very bones. I could sense my body twisting and turning, transforming into something else. Sharp spurts of pain rushed through my arms and legs. I awoke with a fright, jumping out of my chair. Fish cooking on the stove revived my growling stomach.

"Breakfast?" he asked, handing me a plateful of toast and butter. "We don't have much," he said, "but it's enough. How did you sleep last night?"

I took a bite and shrugged casually, trying not to let on my torment of the night.

"Oh!" he exclaimed as he sat down with his own plate. "You'll get to meet my grandson today! He's coming to visit for the summer. Maybe you two can help me on the boat."

I tilted my head inquisitively.

"Didn't I tell you? I'm a fisherman." He seemed to chuckle to himself while we continued eating his morning catch. After we finished, he handed me two main pieces of clothing that mimicked what he himself was wearing. When I didn't move, he gestured to another room while stating, "Over there's the bathroom, where you can change. I'm sure you don't want to wear my nightshirt all day." He smiled.

I hesitantly smiled as well, making sure he saw it. Walking in to the room, I heaved a great sigh as I saw two very large white objects. Where was I? What was I doing here? I slipped on the pants and shirt to the best of my ability. The clothes felt so loose they almost fell off my dry and uncomfortable body. The open window showed me how the wintery chill grew to a tumultuous tempest. When I stepped out of the separate room, the old man opened his eyes very wide and ran to a big wooden box. He grabbed a long and thick rope and wrapped it around my waist.

He took a step back. "There, now you look a bit more presentable." He smiled wide again as thunder cracked the cloud-filled sky.

A knock on the door captured the old man's attention. As he opened the door, I could see water being dumped onto the sands outside. A dark figure stood in the doorway. "Come in!" the old man said, pulling the creature into the warm hut. Soaking black brown locks clung to the forehead of the man now standing near the fire. His clear blue eyes smiled at me. I looked away, fiercely aware of his presence.

"Wyres, this is my grandson Sherlock," he introduced us. "This is a girl I found on the beach just yesterday! We are going to take her fishing-"

"Grandda," the young man interrupted the old man. "Did you ask her if she wants to fish with us? She most likely needs a ride into the city to find her family, eh?" He took a step or two towards me, never detaching his gaze from my blushing face. "What's your name?"

They both held their breath as they waited for my reply. Sherlock maintained his stance as I suddenly represented a living ice statue. I let my eyes wander up to his. What could I say? I don't know where I came from or why I am here. I'm not sure how I can understand their language. I don't even know how to talk as these two do. My silence froze my companions in time, waiting. Then all of a sudden, the old man squinted at me.

"Young lady," he moved toward me, "can you speak?"

I shook my head slowly, waiting for the wind to finish its fight and inevitably destroy the wooden house.

"Grandda, how did you know?" Sherlock turned to his grandfather, sitting in the chair next to the dwindling fire.

"I just realized that in the whole time I've known her, she never said a word."

Chapter 2: Fishing in the Woods

The rest of the day was spent indoors, waiting for the storm to cease. Every once in a while, Sherlock or his grandda, Geraint, would ask me a question. Do you know where you came from? Do you know how you got here? Do you remember your life? Do you know why you can't speak? All yes or no questions. They both kept their eyes focused on maintaining the small inferno in the living room, and whenever it shrank, Sherlock would throw on another log. I kept my eyes on the rain outside. One moment, the wind forced the floods to drench the land and sandbars, the next, it would refill the sea.

That night, I dreamt again of the faces of friends, but this time, I heard voices, in my head. They called me to what I felt was home, a cool, relaxing place right next to my heart. Tall woods of seaweed enveloped me. Everything was flowing up, and weightless. Nothing seemed coherent; most dreams lack such structure. The pounding rain insisted on interrupting my tormenting nightmare of longing. I felt like someone who loses a tooth keeps rubbing the spot where it should be. I was missing something, I just couldn't remember what.

That day, the old man decided the storm had subsided enough to go fishing. We had started to run low on food, considering Geraint never stored much food in his small cabin on the beach. Grabbing the gear, the old man said to me, "You just stay close to my Wyr, Grandson, over there and you'll be just fine." His lips spread over the lower hemisphere of his face, trying to be reassuring. I just nodded.

With the sun still playing hide-and-seek, I stepped onto the shaky boat with my heart pushing out of my chest. The winds had calmed down enough to make the rain drop perpendicularly to the ground. The slightly happier clouds allowed only spit-sized tears to fall. While we sailed out to sea, the boat slushed its own source of dirty water around our feet. Geraint had lent me a heavy jacket to cover my bare arms and freezing core. Sherlock pulled and pushed the two oars with such strength that I could see his muscles in his neck and face tighten and loosen. His hood covered his already soaked hair, but it left his tranquil aquamarine eyes open. Geraint cradled the fishing poles, so determined to maintain his livelihood.

When we had gotten far enough out to sea, Sherlock stopped, grabbed a pole and bait from his grandfather, and took a deep sigh. They both cast off, taking a quick glance at me to make sure I hadn't fallen off the boat. We sat in silence for a while until Geraint asked me, "Girlie, have you tried talking?" I negatively shook my head, worried I might hurt myself if I did so.

"You should try," Sherlock demanded, somewhat excitedly.

I took a deep breath. My body was already shaking all over from the cold as well as the nervousness. I opened my mouth as they do when they speak. A breath left my body like a strong wind. "Uhh…" I swallowed. "I…" I laughed. Then Sherlock and Geraint burst out laughing as well. My shoulders finally relaxed as the storm grew louder. A chant from my dreams spilled forth. "M… Mhh… My name is Molly Dylana." I said. Sherlock smiled wide.

Geraint gasped. "Do you know what Dylana means in Welsh?" I shrugged, something I had seen Sherlock do many times in the past day. "It means lady of the sea! You truly are our little mermaid, aren't you?" His tone was neither mocking nor serious.

Sherlock and I exchanged a look of utter confusion.

The next morning, Geraint couldn't take his eyes off the fire. Sherlock finally had to get up and make the three of us breakfast. After eating something, the old man stood up and addressed the room.

"Wyr, I need to tell you something." His voiced was drowned with conviction. After Sherlock's instinctual nod, he twisted the rest of his body to face his grandfather. "Your grandmamma came from the sea, just like Molly. She appeared on the beach where I was docking my fishin' boat, and I saw the most beautiful woman naked on the beach. At first, she couldn't speak, just like Molly. But we eventually got married and had our three wonderful children. One day, she disappeared. No warning. I just knew she had to go back to the sea."

That night, my dreams were more vivid than ever before. I was swimming, with a large, green tailfin. The water was so sky blue and clear, yet I felt like a cloud hung over me. I felt so depressed, and two pairs of identical mahogany eyes stared at me accusingly. Why was I being treated this way? The words "Lifetime exile" repeated in my mind like a fearful mantra. A woman, or really a woman on top with a dark plum fin on bottom, appeared out of a burst of violet and magenta. She wore strands of seaweed and coral in her wild cinnamon hair, making her seem unkempt. Her disjointed clothing made it obvious that she was Irene, the witch. Her supernatural powers were unparalleled throughout the known world. And she was coming towards me. My nervousness overwhelmed me as she placed her hands on my shoulders, bringing me the most amount of pain I've ever felt.

I woke up, hurriedly grabbing the boy's clothes next to my make-shift bed. I had to get out of here. I remembered now. I was exiled from the sea, my home. But why?

Chapter 3: Murder in the Moonlight

Sherlock was sitting in the rocking chair by the fire as I had creakily pushed my door open. He looked surprised and stood up. "Can't sleep?" he said nervously, running his fingers through his curly locks.

"Yeah," I mumbled, not really feeling like talking. It felt so unnatural to use my mouth that way.

"Would you like to sit?" He motioned to the empty wooden chair.

"No." I stood awkwardly until I saw the slightly open window and went over to it. I rested my hand on it and closed my eyes, waiting for the sound of the waves to consume me.

"You okay?" Sherlock stood in front of me.

"I just wonder what happened."

"You don't remember your life before you met my grandda?"

"No." I sighed heavily then, hoping he wouldn't speak again. As I thought about that first day on the beach and all that I remembered from my dreams, I felt pressure on my mouth. I opened my eyes to find Sherlock kissing me! I pulled away in shock, but at that moment, my past poured forth from my very soul as I collapsed on the floor.

That fateful night was dark and colder than usual. I woke up, unable to sleep, only to see a merman come into my room. His face was dark, but he telepathically told me to do as he said and I wouldn't get hurt. Then he showed me the knife in his hand. I moved against my wall, trying to grab any kind of weapon I could find. Then I found it. A scalpel from my physiology training. When he came towards me, I shoved the small slicer as hard as I could into his chest. His mauve blood spread into the water like a rain on the sand. I ran straight to the king's palace, begging for help from any passerby. I remember that at first the King was kind and helpful, until he sent an officer to my room. When the officer came back, he talked with the king in private, and the next thing I knew, I was getting arrested. The merman who came into my room was the prince. Prince James Moriarty.

My shaking body thumped against the hardwood floors as I came to. I suddenly gasped, full of chaotic apprehension. Why did I suddenly remember everything, when the exile to land sentence included a memory erasing spell? Sherlock's worried eyes scanned my panicked countenance. I gulped deep breaths until my body was relaxed and still. Only then did Sherlock's deep timbre interrupt my racing thoughts.

"Molly, are you alright? What happened?"

I shook my head slowly, not ready to answer his soon-to-be snowballing litany of questions. "I need to sleep. I'm sorry," I whispered as I stood slowly and walked over to my bed. Closing my eyes, I realized I would never escape the wild-eyed, deep mud color of the prince's eyes.

A/N: Should I continue this? Thanks!


	2. Part II: The Return

Disclaimer: (See Chapter 1)

Part II - The Return

Chapter 4: The Quiet Question

The sun streamed gently into the room where I slept. My eyes barely closed during the stars' reign, and now with the sun rising they didn't need to try to anymore. I sighed in exhaustion. _What now?_ was the single most important question rolling around in my mind. I decided I better start by talking to Sherlock and his grandda. If nothing else, they might have a suggestion on my next step. I rolled out of the cocoon of warmth, which slightly disturbed me because it reminded me of the fire. Slipping on some clothes, I headed out into the dining area. Geraint and Sherlock were both seated at the table, whispering. Once Sherlock saw me enter, his head and back straightened.

"Good morning. I'm sorry about last night," I started.

"Oh, no worries, girlie," Geriant greeted me, still turned towards Sherlock. "I'm a heavy sleeper because of growing up next to the sea storms, so the only one who got a bit of a fright was Sherlock here." He finally turned his upper body to look at me. "I daresay, it sounds to me like ya got yer memories back, eh?" I could see he was half chewing on a toothpick in the corner of his mouth. All I could do was nod back. "Well, then, girlie, get over here and tell your old grandpap what's happened."

At his kind words, I lost any and all composure I had. Tears streaked down my face, and the fear I felt that night overwhelmed me. I collapsed on the bench next to Geriant as they offered their concerns and condolences. "I.." My heart wanted to collapse with just thinking of what happened. How would I even say the words? I turned to Sherlock's clear sea blue eyes to give me strength. He looked hesitant but exceeding curious. I took a deep breath, keeping my gaze on him. "I killed the prince. My punishment was to be exiled here for the rest of my life." Sherlock's eyes narrowed.

"What prince, and why were you exiled here?" He asked with menace.

"The prince of my world." This was the hard part. "The undersea world. I'm.. I'm a mermaid. The prince came into my room one night and attacked me. I killed him, and the King banished me to walk with two legs for the rest of my life." I sighed in relief. It was all out. No more secrets.

Geriant scratched his growing snowy beard, tossing away his toothpick. "Wyrn, whatda think of et, eh? A prince coming into a commoner's room," he glanced at me with a small smile, "no offense, girlie," he turned back to Sherlock, "and getting blamed for murderin' when she was only defendin herself."

Sherlock nodded, catching on to the oddity Geriant seemed to imply.

"It was the King's decision. The King isn't to be questioned," I argued. _How dare these two-leggers think they knew undersea politics!_

Sherlock faced me. "That may be, but even a King must use logic to come to a decision. Especially if he is investigator, judge, and jury. This makes no sense. Did you get a chance to explain yourself to him? To tell your side of the story?"

I shrugged slightly, "Sort of. I told the High Seas Protector. He looks into all crimes in our world. His name is Moran. Sebastian Moran. I told him what happened, but he just laughed at me." The memory of this sorrow caused fresh tracks of saltwater down my cheeks.

"That's not right," Sherlock argued. "Even when I attempt to aid the bumbling inspectors around here they at least take into account what I have to say."

Geriant nodded vigorously. "Yes, my dear Wyrn is a great mind. He notices things many don't."

Molly forlornly glanced at the first human she kissed. "Will you help me, Sherlock?"

"Of course, Molly. I will do what I can. I'm not sure though exactly how to help you, here on land. Is there some sort of intermediary? Someone who goes between land and sea?"

Molly shook her head in the negative. "I can only think of the sea witch Irene, but she only helps people who give her something in return. I have nothing to give her."

"Maybe I do."

Chapter 5: The Priceless

Molly stared at Geriant in shock. "What do you mean? What could you possible exchange for safe passage to the undersea kingdom?"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "Grandda, please don't say what I think you are going to say."

Geriant ignored Sherlock's warning, getting up and going to an old wooden trunk in the corner of the room.

"Grandda, don't. Grandmere wouldn't have wanted you to give away her things!" Sherlock almost shouted across the room.

Geriant sighed. "Sherlock, boyo, Grandmere has been gone a long time. She has no use for these anymore."

Molly went to stand by Geriant. After giving him a grateful look, she glanced down into the trunk. It was full of pearls. Molly had seen her fair share of pearls in her lifetime, she remembered she even had a necklace in her things at her cave, but these pearls were unlike anything she had ever seen. They were the size of an above-ground cabbage. Molly gasped, turning to stare at Geriant. "What.. where?" was all she could say.

Geriant sat back down to explain. "These were my lady's. I have not a clue at where she mighta gotten'em, but she left them here. Said I might need'em one day. I bet these fetch a high price in your world, eh?"

Sherlock stood, slamming his hand down on the table. "You can't just give them away, they're Grandmere's!"

Gerient sighed in exhaustion. "Wyrn, sit back down. Yes, they were Grandmere's, but I'm givin' em to ya. Ya need to aid this girlie back to her home. I've no use for 'em, but this withy lady might take 'em."

Molly felt tears springing to come falling out once more. "I'm so touched. I couldn't do this without you." She wrapped her arms in a comforting hug around the old man.

She could hear Sherlock's belabored sigh. "If this is what really you want, Grandda, then I have no ability to argue." He turned to face Molly. "Well, mermaid, how are we to summon this witch woman?"

Ten minutes later, the three had moved an armful of firewood, two of the three abnormally large off-white pearls, and a pack with rope, soap, fruit, and a dagger outside the hut. Molly had no idea what would happen once Sherlock and her were in her home world, but she wanted to be sure he could escape if he needed to.

They set up the firewood, and started a fire. Molly retrieved a bowl from the kitchen, filled it up sea water, and put it over the fire. "Most glorified and powerful sea-woman of them all," she announced in her best booming voice. "I humbly beg for your help. In return I am willing to offer you what you may desire in return. As an ex-citizen of the great sea kingdom, I beg for your aid. Appear before us to determine your price."

The three waited with baited breathe. Soon, the water started boiling over into the fire, putting it out. Geriant took a step back as a head of redish-brown hair emerged from the small bowl. Molly had to put the bowl down over the fire, for it started getting to heavy for her to hold. Finally, the sea witch Irene stood before the group.

Her crystal blue eyes looked Sherlock up and down before facing Molly's own chocolate brown gaze. Jealousy fumed within Molly clenched fists. "Well, hello darlings. Who is this scrumptious piece of human you have with you?" She glanced once more at Sherlock. "Certainly you didn't snag him all own your own stumbling two feet, did you?" She chuckle mirthlessly at Molly.

Molly held her head up high. "Irene, good to see you again. Thank you for answering my call."

Irene swatted at Molly like an annoying bug. "Oh, dear, I didn't answer your call for you, sweets. I answered it for _him_. Always curious to see the new crops of humans available for the picking."

Molly closed her eyes, trying to focus on her reason for calling the man-stealing witch. "I called because I want you to take us both to the sea world. Sherlock is going to help talk to the King for me. Now, name your price."

Irene chuckled once more, amused by Molly's forthright attitude. "Well, I see the little guppy had learned to grow some shark's teeth as well as get your memory back. Congratulations. You would never dare to interrupt my process before your exile. Or is it because you claim this human? Hmm?"

Molly opened her eyes to stare at her once nemesis. "I claim him from you. He is my friend and he is coming with me. Now, name you price."

Irene nodded serenely. "Two fin and gill sets. Simple enough I suppose. Although it does mean reversing one of my own spells, which is exceedingly difficult to do…" She acted as though calculating something in her mind.

At this point, Sherlock decided to speak. "We have brought these two rare pearls. Is this enough?"

Molly held her breath once more. With Irene, half of what she did and said was an act, and half was generalized truth. Irene skimmed her eyes once more over Sherlock's form.

"No. It's not. I require a year of servitude from you afterwards. As my slave," she smiled slowly at this last bit, showing her pointed teeth.

"Never," Molly interjected. As her slave, Sherlock could be subjected to torturous things, including the torture Molly would endure knowing he was in her grasp.

"Alright, Miss Molly," Irene turned to her once again. "I want your voice. It never did you much good anyway."

Molly nervously clarified, "My singing voice?"

"No. All of your voice."

This time Sherlock immediately objected. "If she doesn't have her voice then she can't tell her side of the story about the night of the murder."

"Fine," Irene sighed, exasperated. "Let's get this over with, shall we? Molly dear, you know I want one single thing from you. Now, let's stop with the games, and get right to it. Will you give it to me or not?"

Molly stopped, blinking furiously. _One thing? One thing Irene wants from me? Whatever is she talking about?_ Molly thought. "Irene, I-"

"Yes, yes. Goes against your professional ethics and whatnot, but this needs to be done. I need to fake my death. Only you can do it." Her intelligent eyes burned into mine.

Chapter 6: The Promise of Payout

Molly gulped. Her memory had been coming back in waves, and Irene's words forced another to cascade through her turbulent mind. She was a pathologist. One of three in the kingdom and the only female, Molly was approached by Irene to produce records for Irene's death. Someone had some information on Irene, and it was going to lead to her death someday. Molly gulped again. She could get fired and imprisoned for this. However, the thought brushed Molly's mind that, at least that way, she would still be in her own skin… scales. Molly nodded. "I'll do it."

Irene's mischievous grin split over her poised face. "Wonderful, darling. Here's what we'll do. I'll make an oath with you to change you and your man-toy over there into mer-peoples and you will promise that once you are reinstated to your position, you'll fake my death. Deal?"

Molly hesitated. "Mer-peoples with fins and gills, correct?"

Irene rolled her perfect eyes. "Yes, yes, of course, Miss Molly. All the fixings. Now all you have to do is count to three and hold your breath, yes?" Both the humans nodded. "Good." With a snap of her fingers, Irene had turned us into part fish and disappeared.

Panicking at first, I looked over to Sherlock and pointed to the ocean. While we flopped on the sand to get to the sea, I noticed his bottom half. He had turned into a merman, with a lovely navy tail. It was as long as his legs, which was a feat considering his tall stature. With that last thought, we jumped into the ocean, ready for the next part of our journey.


	3. Part III: The Conclusion

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

A/N: Everything that happens from this point on is underwater, so if I say "spoke", etc. just remember its all through telepathy. Why? Sound travels differently underwater, so I figured magic-y things must've developed to allow them to communicate telepathically. And so on... yes. Magic. That explains it all...

Part III - The Conclusion

Chapter 7: Exploration of Exigent Circumstances

The cool ocean water flew by my face, drowning me in nostalgia _. I was home_. My heart leaped and rolled, just like Sherlock's attempts at controlling his fin. I giggled at how silly he looked, but nothing at that point could ruin how every cell within my body was vibrating with happiness. I tried to tell him telepathically how to control his movements, but by the time I made my way closer to him, he had understood. He looked at me, something akin to awe in his eyes.

"What?" I asked him.

"You look different," he responded within his mind.

I could almost feel the blood rushing to my cheeks, but I forced myself to concentrate on the fact that he could not entirely be complimenting me. "Oh," was all I could say in return. "Anyway, we need to head to the main city, where the King's castle is. Follow me."

We set off, with Sherlock periodically asking me questions about my tail, my culture, and my own life undersea. We discovered much was the same. People had jobs, families, and all searched for the ultimate happiness in life. Some of the jobs were different, like barnacle cleaner and coral gatherer, but the essence was the same. People died, and it was my job to find out why.

As we approached what my memory told me was the King's City, I turned to my companion. "Sherlock, we have to stay low. The guards really only surround the Castle, but many of the court members and city-goers will be swimming right where we are. Some might recognize me because of my exile." I chuckled lightly. "Killing the Prince sure does get your name out there."

Sherlock gave me a hard look. "Molly you may or may not have killed the Prince. That is still unsure. We are here to make sure your name does not go down in infamy. Now, let us hide behind these rocks below us, yes?"

We made our way to the King's Castle swishing from rock to rock. Finally, we saw the rock formation that towered as tall as ten merpeople. I motioned toward it with a flick of my hand. "The King's Castle."

Sherlock nodded. "We'll have to figure out a way in. Do you have any ideas?"

I shook my head negatively. "I was only here once, for my determination and execution of my exile." As I was speaking to Sherlock, he observed the two guards surrounding the side of the slightly misshapen building.

"Hold on," he told me. "Wait here." With that he headed over to the closest guard. I maneuvered my tail and body behind the largest boulder next to me. I could see Sherlock slowly moving along the coral and sea anemones to get behind the blond-haired guard. He was wearing a shiny breastplate and holding his weapon, a stick with a sharpened and curved piece of coral on the end like a spear. His reddish brown tail was a warm color, but it appeared he had been injured a while ago. Molly's mind concluded that the way the tail healed, it was about six months ago. Sherlock came from behind the man, grabbing the ends of the stick to crush it against the man's throat. He whispered some things, telepathically, because Molly could not hear what they were. At the guard's nod, Sherlock let go and motioned to me. I looked around to see if anyone had noticed and then moved forward.

"Molly, this is John Watson. He is not really a guard. I noticed his nervous twitches and deduced that he was here for another reason, one that could get him in trouble. He reassured me this is so and informed me that he is looking for his wife, Mary, who was taken here after being falsely accused of treason," Sherlock told me quickly. "Now, we had all better head inside before anyone catches us."

He rushed inside, not checking to see if this John and I would follow. I shrugged and did so, noticed John did the same.

The inside of the castle was covered in splendor; pearls of all shades and sizes decorated the walls and reflected the light of day. Sherlock turned to the both of us, "I can deduce the general layout, but I do not know where exactly your wife is, or the King."

John spoke, "I found out from the guard I knocked out that Mary is in the bottom level, in one of the prisons. If we free her first, then I will be sure to aid you both as much as I can." Sherlock nodded his agreement and we all started following the blond merman.

We moved down various levels, and I could hear Sherlock muttering to himself, "No stairs. No need, I suppose. Also handles, but at a higher level, maybe for the older population who may need the aid. Need to check with their hands to see if any specific indentation, also to see if other buildings have the same type of layout."

I just sighed at his ever-growing curiosity. I remembered when I first met this man. He was silent but kind. Now, it was as if his mind had been poked and prodded by the unimaginable. He was interested and taking every piece of the world around him into his opened mind and sight. He seemed to be becoming more of himself.

When we finally got to the prison level, John started shouting in his mind, "Mary!"

A small but significant, "Here!" was voiced from one of the cells.

Sherlock's mumbling started up again, "Interesting. No bars, no metal or fire to heat it with, so stone is the heaviest material, hence the walls being carved into the rock. Also the door is curious, a small hole, presumably for food, but other than that just a wall of stone. Not much technology down here, so must be moved purely by force."

John called Sherlock over to help him move the rock away from Mary's cavern of imprisonment.

I heard a deep menacing bark in my mind. Turning, I saw him in the shadows. The second part of my nightmares. His piercing green eyes never swayed from mine. "Sherlock," I called out tentatively.

The rock being rolled away made barely a sound through the dark waters. Sherlock lazily turned his cerulean eyes to me. Widening, they saw what had captured mine. Sebastian Moran, captain of the guard stepped out from the corner of the dungeon. I tried to swallow my fear but only increased it instead.

"John," Sherlock called to his new friend. "We have company." There was just enough space between the rock and the rest of the cavern at that point for Mary to slip through. Her bright blue tail caught my peripheral vision as she swam towards Sherlock and I. Moran's barking laugh rolled around in my thoughts.

John was right behind his wife. Picking up his guard's weapon he faced Moran, who held a similar piece. "Moran," John snarled. "I'll get you for accusing my wife. You and I both know that she didn't do anything wrong!" At this, John lunged toward the menacing merman, locking the two blonds into a battle. "Go, save Mary, Sherlock!" John called out to us.

Sherlock grabbed my arm and hauled me as best he could up the entryway. "Molly, we have to find the King soon. Moran may have already alerted the rest of the guards," he said quickly.

"No, he wouldn't've," Mary interjected. "He wants to kill John, I heard him say. He wouldn't let the others have a chance to just put him away like they did me."

As we reached the level above, the one with the King's throne room, I turned toward the light-haired woman. "Why did they put you away in the first place?"

Her sharp sky eyes focused on me. "I found out something I shouldn't." She scanned my face. "Aren't you the one sent away for murdering the Prince?"

Sherlock angrily interrupted, "She did not murder anyone. It was self-defense. And she needs a chance to speak to the King to explain herself."

Mary gasped in her mind. "Molly, right?" I nodded affirmatively. "Oh! This is too perfect! The reason why I was sent to that prison was because I heard, from the mouth of the man himself, Moran said that the Prince, Moriarty is alive."

Chapter 8: The Ruler's Revelry

Sherlock's eyes grew wide and full of excitement. "This is perfect!" he exclaimed. He grabbed Mary's arm and started pummeling her with questions. When had she heard him say so, how?

However, I caught a small but distinct disturbance in the water around me. I stretched my mind toward that direction, to hear some guards patrolling the palace hallways. "Sherlock, someone's coming!" I whispered as best I could.

Mary swished her tail as quickly as she could, calling out, "The way to the King's throne room is this way."

Sherlock and I followed her, the water changing as the guards drew closer. Mary swept into an archway down the hall, disappearing from our sight. "Sherlock, they're coming!" I hastily whispered, seeing their uniforms from the corner of my eye.

"There's no time," he rushed to say, grabbing my hand and pulling us into the back of a dark alcove. He moved his other hand my waist, right where scales turned to skin. He kept his back to the entrance to the half cave, shutting out some of the light with his tall, lithe upper body. His shadow cast a halo of curls along the wall behind me. My pulse jumped in reaction to his proximity. With his face so close to mine, I was captivated by how dark his eyes became.

I could not stop myself then from asking him, "Sherlock?" as quietly as I could. I swallowed my latent fears after he nod to continue. "What.. will happen after.. after the King hears my story?"

Sherlock softly responded, "He will reinstate you as a mermaid and pathologist. He should clear you of all charges."

"Yes, but," I took a breath, "What will happen with you?"

Sherlock's gaze drifted. "I'm not sure, Molly. What would you like to happen?"

An image of this, Sherlock pressed against me and both as merpeople, was cemented in my memory. _I would like this, Sherlock_ , I wanted to say. However, my heart felt chipped with the thought that Sherlock had another life. His grandfather, his friends were all on land. He would never choose this or me.

Just as I was about to speak, I heard another sound of two people murmuring with small exclamations. Looking around Sherlock's bare alabaster shoulder, he and I both saw a woman with a coral, sparkling crown, embracing a man with a guard's uniform. They were kissing and giggling as they headed to where Sherlock and I were hiding. As they grew closer, I realized I recognized the fair-haired woman as the queen.

Sherlock turned to me and winked. He slowly turned, grabbing the woman by the arm and pushing her against the rock wall. "My queen, what a scandal to be seen with a man who is not your husband!" The woman in question balked and stammered.

"My queen," I interjected quickly before the guard attempted to use his weapon against Sherlock. "We promise on the King's throne that we will keep this secret from the King, if you allow us an audience with him." At my sudden words, the guard next to me scanned my presence and instantly recognized me.

Before he could take any action, the queen fervently agreed as long as Sherlock released her. He did, and the four of us headed to the King's throne room, where I imagined Mary was hiding.

Chapter 9: The Paramount Predicament

The guard trailed behind the three of us, with the Queen leading our parade. Every few paces, the Queen would glance back to make sure the rest were still following. I could still see some tint of red on her pale cheeks. Sherlock grabbed my hand, sensing my nervousness.

We entered the throne room, not seeing any merperson present. The Queen walked behind a door, calling out, "Lestrade! Get out here! You have an audience!"

Silent permeated the room until a curtain was pulled back from the side wall. A merman with short grey hair and a warm face came forth. He wore a similar coral crown as the Queen did, with a golden tail. "Who is it?" he stated with a gruff voice. The queen resurfaced from her exit.

"I found these two wandering the castle, and they request an audience with you," she elaborated.

The guard chose this moment to memorialize himself before the King. "Yes, and this woman is the one you banished not so long ago. She murdered your son!"

Mary apparently could not stay in hiding at this accusation. "No, she didn't! Moran said that Moriarty wasn't actually dead!"

Lestrade looked between Sherlock and I and the suddenly appearing Mary. "Who are you?!"

Mary bowed, gracefully. "I apologize, my King, but you know as well as we that Moran and Prince Morairty were close ever since you found your son. As children, they could not be separated. Moriarty concocted this plot to fake his death and send away the one person who could prove that!"

Lestrade's eyebrows shot up at this final statement. They then narrowed, in concentration. Sherlock had been staring at Mary the entire time, and only now chose to affirm her suspicions. "Indeed, this Moriarty only needed Molly to go so far as to stab him, but who knows what he had done before entering her bedroom to protect himself from it. Also, Moran's position was perfect to convict and condemn Molly quickly before suspicions arose, even imprisoning those who found out the truth, like this Mary Watson. But the question becomes then, why would Prince Moriarty want to fake his death?"

Mary mentally, sighed a large gust of relief at the sudden sight of her husband "John!" she exclaimed.

He slugged through the entryway, dragging behind him a limp Sebastian Moran. "I know why. Moriarty wanted to become a criminal mastermind, but if he was the Prince he would be too recognized. He wanted to abandon his royal duties in a way that would allow him to move in the shadows. At least, that's what I could get from Moran."

Lestrade moved upright from his chair. "Moran! Is this true?!" Moran refused to respond. "I want to believe you, but I need some sort of proof. I'm sorry, but that's Moran's division."

Sherlock looked lost in his quick mind. I looked forlornly to the other occupants in the room. From behind the throne emerged one final merperson. His tail was a sharp black, fading to grey at his thin waist. His hair was shorter than the Kings and a light auburn. He had sharp blue eyes that reminded me of Sherlock. "Now, now. I think we can come to some sort of agreement," he stated with a smooth voice.

He tagged along a cane made of a shark's fin. Sherlock examined the man vertically a few times, squinting his eyes in confusion. "Sherlock," I said hesitantly. "Who is that man? He seems particularly interested in you," I whispered. Indeed, the man had not stopped peering at Sherlock since he entered the room. Lestrade came down from the throne to stand by the man. He touched the man's shoulder, despite him seeming so cold.

I squeezed Sherlock's hand, since he forgot it was still in mine. He squeezed back in an attempt to give comfort. "Don't worry, Molly. It appears he is on our side. And he seems oddly familiar."

I slowly nodded, still unsure.

Finally, after a few moments, the King turned to all present and stated, "Alright. Molly will return to our world, removing her banishment. She will also be reinstated to her position as pathologist. Mary Watson will be freed from her imprisonment and cleared of all charges. Also, Molly's friend will have the option to stay here, with us, if he so chooses." The two gentlemen nodded at each other, about to turn and go.

Sherlock called out, "Wait, sir! How do I know you?"

The man quirked the side of his mouth. "You don't Sherlock, but I know you. I am your uncle. Your father's brother. However, I was born here after your grandmother came back to the sea. My name is Mycroft. If you decide to stay, you may hear the full story from me if you wish." With a curt nod, he left the throne room. Mary and John had become lost in each other and had started to head home after a grateful nod from them both to Sherlock.

Molly turned to Sherlock. "Well, you… you have a choice to make, Sherlock." I paused, hearing the full weight of that decision. "Maybe I can show you around, to help you make it." The tiniest grain of hope in my chest leaked through my words.

Sherlock nodded. "I would love that Molly, but I don't need it to make my decision. You see, I've already decided."

I clenched my hands to my heart, fearing the worst. He gently encompassed both my hands in his larger ones.

"Molly," he started quietly, "I choose you."

A/N: Thinking of doing an epilogue to tie up any and all lose ends. What do you think?


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